


Out of the Dungeon

by LaviniaLavender



Series: The Hellsing Inheritance [2]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, General, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-10-21
Updated: 2009-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaviniaLavender/pseuds/LaviniaLavender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Integra releases Alucard from the dungeon, he makes her porridge.</p><p>This story fills in the days from when Integra found Alucard until Walter returns, when she is reeling from her father's death, killing her uncle, discovering a secret, powerful vampire in the basement, Walter's continuing absence, and the responsibility settling on her shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Very slight Harry Potter crossover, and that only shows up in the later chapters.
> 
> This is currently my favorite fic project, though it moves very slowly.

Integra came to consciousness feeling stiff. She lay on her back without moving or opening her eyes, trying to remember what had happened to feel like this. She could feel the edges of a large gap in her memory…. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, blinking to take in the light from the windows.

Something unfamiliar – she didn't consider whether she _saw_ or _felt_ it – to the side of her room, and her head snapped toward it.

There, sitting quite naturally in her chair, legs crossed at the knees – a vampire unmistakable, his large hat and old-fashioned clothes bizarre against the décor of the rest of her room. A vampire – strangely not nearly as sinister as he should have been, sitting so still and watching her behind those tinted glasses, but dressed so absurdly for the situation. Integra's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she could not move at all.

That moment was all it took for her to realize what she was seeing was _real_, and then she sat up as fast as she could. But before anything else could be said or done, what had begun as a vague suspicion of pain before reared up and through her so quickly and violently she nearly vomited. Instead she let out a short gasp and clapped one hand over her mouth, throwing the other out to keep herself from falling back; all the time, her eyes never left the vampire in her chair.

He stood up smoothly – as though it were perfectly natural for him to be there – and started towards her, but even with the terrible awareness that she was completely devoid of weapons, Integra gasped fiercely, _"Stay where you are."_

He froze in obliging obedience, though she could still see his eyes fixed upon her. A pause stretched as both were motionless, she concentrating on breathing and not being sick. She could, distantly – nothing more important than those red eyes through the lenses – identify the primary sources of pain: all along her back and, centered in a different way, her left shoulder.

The silence, filled only with her rasping breath, broke at last by the vampire inquiring in a most solicitous tone, "Is there anything I can get you, master?"

_Master –_

The word rang through her, and suddenly she was crouched on a hard stone floor, the blond blood-splattered vampire kneeling to her side, the feel of his iron arm beneath hers, and her maimed uncle, altered nearly beyond all recognition, staring wild-eyed in front of her.

Her left shoulder spiked with pain again, almost as though a second bullet had hit it. Integra clapped her hand to her mouth again to keep from being sick; and this time, she doubled over to her knees, for the first time breaking her gaze on the vampire.

Unseen by her, a satisfied smile spread across Alucard's face.

A long moment passed while Integra made no move to raise her head. He inquired again, "Master?" though it sounded as though he were only relishing the sound of the word. Finally, Integra raised her head, her face now sickly pale, and as she looked at Alucard the sharp alertness was gone from her eyes, replaced by a blank, almost detached curiosity.

"Master," said Alucard for a third time, watching her closely, "would you like –"

"No." The response was automatic, but she was gathering herself together now that she had recollected all the facts (_Father's dead. I killed my uncle and last relative the night before, and unleashed this vampire into the house. Walter's still an ocean away_) and had to act on them. Moving slowly and carefully, she pushed back the rest of her covers and prepared to set her feet on the floor and stand up. She would clean up (realizing now she had barely washed her hands and face last night, hadn't even changed her clothes before dropping into bed), change, get breakfast, and call to bring Walter back immediately to help her. That was what she had to focus on.

Before she even lowered her feet to the carpet, however, she looked back up at Alucard. "I need to clean up – go somewhere else in the house."

He eyed her with what might have been a slightly injured expression before turning to depart through the wall.

Integra let out an involuntary sigh, her tense shoulders slumping. Carefully, she slid off her bed, made sure she had her balance, and took tiny, almost waddling steps to the bathroom. Every step reinforced the impression that her entire body had been beaten, and the mirror only reinforced how much of a mess she was. Her normally tan skin looked chalky, and her hair still had some grime and…oh, surely that wasn't blood (_whose?_) streaked in it. Sitting on the toilet seat, she gingerly undid the buttons she had done up mechanically the night before, though pushing her shirt off her shoulders and down her arms was another problem. Dr. Trevellian had said her shoulder might _ache_ in the morning, hadn't he – not be practically immobile. She paused to take a couple of the pills from the bottle left on her counter before working to finish the job.

Fortunately, she hadn't put back on any type of undershirt, and her skirt was much easier to shake off. Once naked, she moved to the side of her bathtub as she turned on the faucet for warm water. She didn't feel like taking a soak, nor standing up in the tub for any length of time, so she just picked up her washcloth and soap to do as best a job as she could sitting on the edge of the tub. She tried to wash around the bandages on her shoulder, figuring she would go to Dr. Trevellian later to see about getting them changed.

Remembering her hair, she knelt inside the tub to lower her head under the faucet. It was even more awkward to rub shampoo into it one-handed (her wounded shoulder definitely didn't like moving that way), and by the time she had gotten the last of the suds out and wrung her hair as best she could to pull it over her right shoulder, she felt exhausted again, nearly to the point of trembling. She told herself she would feel better once she was dressed and had some breakfast – she had to reach Walter, at least, then she just had to wait until he arrived and sorted everything out.

She leaned against the bathroom counter as she toweled herself off, until a glimpse of her back in the mirror made her stop entirely as she sucked in breath. Dark bruises patterned from high between her shoulder blades to the lowest part of her back and down her right side as well. _But of course_, she thought, _I fell down the stairs. Very hard, rough stone stairs_.

As she stared at the bruises, a distant part of her took in how lucky it was she hadn't hit the back of her head on the edges of those stairs – it could have easily concussed her, or worse. _What are you talking about, you're lucky you weren't shot in the _head, the sharp answer came_. You're lucky you didn't bleed to death down there. You could have – your body could still be down there right now, Richard would have probably thought it a fine place to leave you hidden…. You would have died, he would have shot you again in a second and you _couldn't move_ as you lay on the floor of that cell – you couldn't move, you didn't have anything left there, not a thing to fight back or protect yourself with – if it had just been you, you would have _died –

Integra leaned more heavily on her bathroom counter, clutching the towel convulsively around her. It was true; the knowledge of her helplessness last night gripped her, the certainty of her death if it hadn't been…if it hadn't been for the intervention of Alucard. A vampire. Who called her "master" and watched her sleep and didn't seem particularly interested in harming her, though God knew why. And here she was now after her father's death, alone in the house and completely indebted to a vampire.

Not "indebted" – her mind rebelled against that word; after all, it was the vampire who called her master. She had to find out why, make sure it wasn't a temporary condition. But first, Walter.

But dressing was yet another ordeal. She had reached the stage where some type of supportive garment for her chest was not only more comfortable, but necessary; however, this morning bras did seem completely impossible, as even straining to make her left arm reach around to clasp it was enough to leave her gasping with tears in her eyes. At last, she struggled on an undershirt instead.

Alucard was waiting for her in the kitchen. Integra paused in the doorway when she saw him, though he immediately stood up and offered her his chair. A gentlemanly vampire – well, it certainly fit his dress style, though she still would have refused the chair if the walk downstairs hadn't been uncommonly strenuous. As she sat down guardedly, he began whisking about the kitchen, poking in cabinets and examining utensils. Integra stared.

"What would it please you to have for breakfast, master?"

Integra opened her mouth, though nothing came out. _Surely_ he wasn't serious – She tried again, and came out rather weakly with, "You cook?"

"Of course, master. Twenty years is nothing to the time I did cook. It is only a question of what is available, and what you would prefer."

He glanced at her questioningly when she didn't answer, and both feeling curious and not knowing what else to say, she told him, "There should be a bin of oats in the cupboard for porridge."

Nonplussed, she watched as he moved about with a pot and the oats, sniffing in her fridge before extracting butter and then milk when he asked her what she would like to drink in the meantime. The kitchen had been renovated just a few years ago, but any confrontations with new technology did not appear to daunt him. Integra only had to give him a few tips with the stove before he seemed perfectly at ease with it.

As he shook a measured amount of oats into the boiling water, an important question belatedly occurred to her. "Did – have you seen anyone?"

"No, master." He began to stir the oats.

She frowned, wondering. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen anything of the staff yesterday, either. Mrs. Bryson, the housekeeper, had seemed to have made it her mission to keep her in sight since Father died, and Integra had had to seek out more and more unlikely and forgotten rooms and alcoves to get some privacy. She wondered if Richard had done something to them – or perhaps merely dismissed them.

"Well," she said finally, "if you do see them – or if anyone enters the house – don't show yourself, just come and tell me at once."

"As you wish, master."

And now seemed a good time to ask more key questions. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because you are my master."

"But why?"

He stopped stirring to turn his head and regard her. She saw his fangs again as he grinned. "I serve all Hellsings. Your ancestor bound me to your line." Leaving the stove, he approached her and extended his hand, palm down and fingers slightly curled.

For an absurd moment, Integra thought he was offering his hand for her to kiss; then she realized he was showing her the symbols patterned on the back of his glove. Intrigued, she leaned forward. It was definitely very complex; she had never seen anything like the outermost writing before in her life and she doubted she would ever cover in Ancient Runes. But there were English words too, running in a circle – HELLSING at the top, and she turned her head to read the rest: _Hell's gate arrested_….

Hesitantly, she raised her hand to touch the glove. Alucard was very still. Her hand hovered above the fabric for a few moments, and when her fingertips finally made contact with the black imprint, she felt a sort of magical spark – a not exactly unpleasant sensation – jump from it to her skin. Yes, he was telling the truth; he had a bind to the Hellsings.

She drew her thumb over the star in the middle, searching for lingering traces of the connection. Then her eyes flickered up to his face, and his expression, though she couldn't identify it, made her quickly withdraw her hand. "Don't let it burn," she said, looking to the stove.

He returned and began stirring again. Watching him, Integra took a drink from her glass before speaking again. "Why were you locked up?"

His black hair – certainly shorter than last night, but still shaggy – hid his eyes, and his tone was unfathomable as he replied, "I would tell you to ask your father about that."

It was not at all like a knife stabbing her; more like it had been turned around and the blunt handle used instead, at the same dull spot that never stopped, and she thought would never stop, hurting. She answered mechanically. "He's dead. He died four days ago."

"I know when any Hellsing is born or dies." Now he looked at her, his gaze piercing, but she met it without shame. Her father just died, how did he think she felt?

"Arthur Hellsing," he said softly, returning to the stove. "What happened for him to leave his only daughter with that rotten maggot from last night?"

She didn't want to talk about this with him, and she really didn't want to talk about how her father had made such a mistake. "He was sick."

There was a quiet click of the burner being turned off. "Is Walter still around?"

Startled by his consideration in changing the subject, she looked back to see him pouring porridge into a bowl. "Yes. I mean – not right now, he's in South America investigating something Father was looking into recently…. But he'll be back soon. I'm going to call him after I finish this."

At her direction, Alucard fetched a bag of raisins out of the pantry and sprinkled them into her bowl before slipping a spoon in and extending it to her formally with both hands. Integra looked at it for a moment – those same hands she had seen last night massacre bodies as though it was all they knew – and then mutely took it from him.

She hadn't realized how starving she was until she took her first bite, but then she had eaten nothing yesterday and very little before then; it was only thanks to her deeply ingrained manners that she kept her composure now. Alucard watched her in silence, refilling her bowl and glass as needed, and Integra was far too focused on the food to be bothered by him. At last she leaned back (gently, against the wooden back of her chair), and he set her bowl and glass in the sink, then turned again attentively to her.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Aren't you going to finish the job?"

"Don't you have servants?"

Oh, so _that's_ how he was: only eager to serve her in the most direct way. She restrained a sigh, and got up to go to the sink. "Well, I don't know where they are at the moment, and I'm not going to leave dirty dishes in the sink." She half expected the vampire to move to stop her and do the washing himself, but he stood by and watched her, unmoving. Keeping her attention more on him than the task at hand, Integra cleaned the dishes quickly and set them on the other side. She dried her hands on a nearby towel, still eyeing him askance, and finally turned to lead the way out of the kitchen. Breakfast was over, and it was time to find some answers.


	2. Day One

Alucard trailed close behind her as she walked slowly upstairs to her father's office. One of the doors had been left open, something she had never seen before. She hesitated outside, reluctant to enter and see the empty desk…she wished so much to see her father sitting there, silver-blond hair glinting in the morning light from the windows as he was absorbed in his work. But she could not forget the vampire at her shoulder, serving as a reminder that everything in her world was dreadfully altered, far past the point of return.

She rounded the open door, then stopped short. Prepared she had been for emptiness, not the shocking mess not only covering the desk but the floor all around it. Integra had never seen a room in her house so untidy, and of all rooms, for it to be her father's holy office – Her hands clenched, and for a moment she felt quite glad that the room's last occupants had rushed from it to their deaths.

Moving forward, she took in the torn, crumpled papers, the crumbs littering the highly-polished wood, the half-empty glasses containing dark liquid left to leave rings on the surface of the desk. Her eyes narrowed as she moved around and saw the broken glass on the floor and high chair left pushed roughly away at an angle.

Finally she glanced back at Alucard, who had followed her inside and was looking thoughtfully at the rubbish. But she wouldn't ask him for help – nor would she push it out of the way for Mrs. Bryson or her maid, Emmy. This was her father's office, the heart of the Hellsing Organization – and now her own. And right now it was a disaster, she had to clean it up and then work on reaching Walter – both tasks for which she didn't relish the idea of a vampire looking on. Considering her words, she turned to him deliberately.

"I need to do some work. Please leave me alone for a few hours."

He eyed her, looking oddly hurt again, and turned to melt through a wall. Integra stared at the spot for a few moments before returning to the wreck before her.

Though her first instinct was to sweep all the used glasses into the trash, she carried them instead back to the kitchen, and found cleaning supplies in a closet by the laundry to take care of the broken glass and crumbs. It took some time to distinguish the trash from what might have been meant to be kept, and seeing her father's handwriting crumpled and stained caused extra pangs.

At last all that was left were papers, organized as best Integra knew how, and a folder describing the latest undead attacks, which she had found underneath the desk. She looked down at it uncertainly; Father had taught her principles and basics, given her advice in a large, general sense on how to fight the country's vampire population; neither of them had thought it necessary to get into the technical details the organization demanded, and she had no idea how to handle the papers before her now, or even where they were filed. It was all the more reason why she should contact Walter and get him back as quickly as possible.

But finding instructions on how to reach him was not at all as easy as she had imagined. She combed through all the drawers, finally finding (shoved to the back of a bottom drawer) her father's notebook in which he had recorded important information such as meetings, phone calls, significant decisions, and reminders. But a page had been torn out from the week Walter left.

At this point, Integra sat down in the chair in frustration (something she had avoided doing until now), and thought: of course, Richard wouldn't care about how to reach Walter; he had never liked him. So what would he want with Walter's contact information? He would probably have wanted to know when Walter was coming back, and nothing past that, so once he found out….

A few minutes later, she uncovered the missing page from the bottom of the rubbish bin, triumphant. Once smoothed out, she made out the flight information along with a hotel name, address, and number. She hadn't had any experience making international phone calls, and it took a few tries with the operator's assistance before the clerk of Mar Ipanema Hotel picked up. He did speak excellent English, and after only a few short minutes he was able to tell Integra that Walter Doneaz had checked out a week ago leaving no information on his next location.

Once the point was absolutely clear, Integra thanked the clerk with numb lips and hung up. She felt she had slammed into a wall of information so terrible she couldn't, didn't want to comprehend it. It was, in fact, little different from how she had felt when first told her father was dead.

Walter had checked out a _week_ ago – before her father died, then. If he had left to come home, he should definitely have arrived by now; if not, _where_ did he go next?

Vainly she went through every scrap of paper in and on the desk, turning them over to check both sides; there was not another South American hotel name or phone number with that country code. Finally, at the point of defeat, she leaned against the inner edge of the desk from where she was kneeling on the floor, pressing her hand to her mouth to keep back the sobs. What could possibly keep Walter away when he knew Arthur had just died? Nothing – only if…what if Richard had a friend in Brazil, or did something else, and – However, if she had been able to take care of herself last night, surely Walter could too. But if he hadn't had any warning….

Integra sat on the cold tile, fighting a breakdown as she faced the thought that the two men who had been her protectors all her life, who had loved her best and whom she loved most in turn, might be both gone forever. She was truly alone now; all she had left was the vampire, who was almost completely unknown – and she didn't want him, she wanted Walter and her _father_ back.

For several minutes she leaned against the inside of the desk, muffling her sobs behind her hand, but it was not long before she felt disgusted with herself for acting like such a child, and clenched her skirt in her hand. She couldn't sit there and cry; she had to get a grip and figure out what _she_ needed to do now. And what if Alucard came in and saw her sitting on the floor and crying like a baby? His respect for her seemed based on those displays of her strength he had seen last night; bound or not, who knew how less agreeable he might become if he thought he had been wrong about her. She still didn't know why he had been locked up.

With this in mind, she took deep breaths to calm herself, wiped her eyes, and stood back up.

One of the files she had discovered in her search, with a horrible shock, was information concerning her father's funeral arrangements. Before she had only given it a hurried scan, enough to ensure it contained nothing about Walter, but now she forced herself to pick it up and open it again.

She learned, through Richard's scrawled notes, that a coffin had already been purchased and a few other vague arrangements made, such as the usual family church for the service. But there was no mention of a date for the funeral itself, nor who would attend; perhaps Richard considered those details to be worked out after he had disposed of his niece and secured the organization for himself. Integra looked over the pages uncertainly; she had no idea what all still had to be done for her father's funeral.

Putting a hand to her face, she felt slightly sick; it was awful, so inhuman that she should have to think about and handle this herself. But she didn't have a choice; she was alone and couldn't let anyone find out what had happened to Richard. That was another issue – what would she say to those who knew he ought to be here? What adult was left who was supposed to be looking after her? Her father had left the organization to her, but she was still quite underage; there was no way she could pretend her way through things; she was far too ignorant of all the responsibilities which were suddenly hers. What _could_ she do?

Another wave of panic rose, but Integra closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, determined not to let it overpower her this time. She was not helpless. She knew she was intelligent, if also ignorant, but she was _not_ helpless yet. Right now everything was still in her hands – and she was _not_ alone, either, as limited the assistance Alucard might be able to offer was. He was a vampire – though clearly a powerful one, and in her control – who had been locked up for the past twenty years. She hardly thought he could give her advice on funerary arrangements, but it was better than no one at all. However, she ought to learn more about him, ascertain how trustworthy he really was, and how much he really could help her.

Closing the file back on the desk, she eyed it all again before sitting back and speaking carefully. "Alucard."

He materialized so immediately before her that she wondered how close he had been waiting. But she swallowed, pressing her hands together as she searched for the best words and kept her focus on a point away from him. "It seems…I'm not sure when Walter will return, so there are some immediate issues I have to take care of myself."

He made no answer, though of course she had not said anything which required one. Integra forced herself to look up to his face as she pointed at a chair before the desk. "Sit down."

He did, crossing his legs and folding his gloved hands before him to regard her over them. It slightly annoyed her – what right did he have to scrutinize her? – but she moved to what she wanted to know. "You still haven't told me why you were locked up."

"I was not sat down to have it explained to me before it was done," he answered levelly. "I told you before that your father should have been the one to explain it to you, as Hellsings will always have their own reasons understood only by Hellsings. And," he added, "I believe your ancestors, including your father, kept records of their work with me."

She frowned at him. "I don't suppose you know where those records are kept."

"Certainly not recently."

A moment passed as she studied him. "Was there a problem with your bindings? Did you disobey an order?"

"I will never disobey you, master," Alucard said softly, his voice layered in servility and perhaps something else – though it didn't answer her question.

But she had already chosen to trust him, in the most basic way – and as it didn't seem like he was going to tell her what had happened, she would have to wait. Right now there were more important things to deal with. Besides, the whole reason Alucard was here now was because her father had told her to use him in the most desperate situations, in which she certainly had been – and her father would hardly have done that if he might be dangerous to her.

Putting the question out of mind for now, she considered again the more pressing issues. If Walter…was at least truly incommunicado right now, for an indefinite period of time, Alucard was the closest, most trustworthy ally she had, as galling as the thought was. _Ally_ was the correct word, however, and with that in mind she chose her next wording. "We need to decide how to cover up Richard's disappearance."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why not the truth?"

"The truth is inconvenient," she said testily. "Given – my age, and Walter's – current absence, I'm afraid someone may try to take over the organization and estate wholesale. But my father left it to _me_." _And Richard was supposed to be an advisor_, came the unbidden thought, but she pressed on. "I'm still attending school, and my father instructed me to finish my years – term begins again in a couple weeks. So what we're immediately facing is just covering his absence through the funeral" (_say the words quickly, don't think about them)_ "and, ah, other issues." It hadn't worked; her train of thought had broken anyway.

But Alucard drew her attention back to a new problem. "And who will run the organization while you are in a classroom?"

She frowned at him. "Commander Ferguson's very capable, and I trust him." This was true; she had known him all her life, unlike the intermittent years Richard had darted in and out, and seen the complete faith her father had set in him. "I'm not sure what I'll tell him…." She hadn't thought of that either, explaining anything to Peter; and what about Reverend Pershing? Last night she had opted for complete silence with Dr. Trevellian, but she was lucky that had satisfied even him. No one else would be so easy.

"Ferguson?" Alucard said, interrupting her thoughts again. "Peter Ferguson?"

She studied him a little nervously. "Yes – did you know him?"

His grin now was not at all comforting, and she suddenly remembered in the phantasmagoria before she opened his cell door, the slaughter of soldiers with the Hellsing badge of arms. _But Father wouldn't have told me to go to him, unless –_

"Yes, he was already commander of the Hellsing troops for a few years before I was shut up. A reunion should be interesting…." He tilted his head forward, his expression lost under the shadow of his hat.

None of this was any more reassuring, and Integra's next words sounded louder and sharper than she meant them to be. "You're still under orders not to reveal yourself to anyone until I say so."

He raised his head back enough for her to see his eyes shine through his glasses. "Of course, master."

Integra tried to focus back on the problem. "So – as for what I'm going to tell him and everyone else –"

"I do have the gift of persuasion, master," Alucard told her. "A rather powerful gift. It should be sufficient for any mortal."

She looked at him, considering. Hypnotism was a vampiric trait – and with all the enhanced abilities he had already displayed, she didn't doubt him now. "All right," she said slowly. "If it comes to that – though in that case we need some basic explanation for who you are as well – can you disguise yourself as a human?"

"I can certainly pass, if my master needs me to."

"Good. I'm sure I can make something up about how you're a solicitor, executor of the will – except to the actual solicitor, when you can be someone else." Integra was starting to breathe a little easier now, as the difficulties ahead seemed a little less insurmountable.

"You could say the maggot temporarily ran off," Alucard suggested. "Went to nobly ensure some part of the inheritance was passed down correctly, like everyone expects him to."

Integra bit her lip, thinking about it. "I'll need details to make it convincing."

"You could use your father's will," Alucard said, quietly. "Choose one of the other Hellsing properties being passed on and say he went out to handle it in person."

She did not answer. She had seen a copy of her father's will among all the other papers of the desk, but hadn't wanted to examine it any more than the file with details on her father's funeral. But Alucard's suggestion seemed good – better than anything else she could think of – and slowly, she reached for it where it lay on top of the desk.

The first page was crumpled partway down, near the line which read _to my daughter INTEGRAL WINGATES HELLSING, I leave the Hellsing estate and everything it contains_ (which does include Alucard, a detached part of her noted) – it was easy for her to envision how angry Richard would have been upon seeing that. She tried to mostly skim the document, looking for her uncle's name – here, a large sum which more than ensured he could have lived the rest of his years comfortably – and then on the third page, the list of properties began. There were many she had never heard of before…but there, that was what she was looking for: a complicated property in India the details of which would have to be discussed with her mother's family.

She read the description aloud to Alucard, who nodded with what she supposed was a _hm_ of approval.

"It will still be a bit flimsy," she said. "I'm not sure they'll believe he would go that far away before the funeral, but that's when you can come in, to do the – re-enforcing, if necessary." She gave him a very small, uncertain smile, and his in return was strangely reassuring in its demonic quality.

Then the phone rang, and Integra jumped so badly she nearly crushed the will in her hands. It rang a second time, and she stared at it as though it were a Howler, and then looked up at Alucard. He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look that said, _well, what are you going to do?_ For a third ring she hesitated, then forced herself to reach over and pick up the phone.

"Hello – this is Integra Hellsing speaking."

A short pause, and then a vaguely familiar voice said, "Integra?"

"Yes – who is this?"

Very formidably, the voice answered, "This is Sir Howard Islands."

Integra gulped, gripping the edge of the desk. "How – how can I help you, Sir Islands?"

"I don't believe you can. Would you please call your uncle to the phone?"

She took a deep breath, fighting for calmness and certainty in her voice. "I'm afraid he's not available, sir."

"Not available? That can't be." A small note of irritation was perceptible. "Where is he?"

Alucard's voice rang inside her head: _He's off the estate, dealing with problems arising from the will, but the solicitor is here presently and will speak with you._

She looked up at him in surprise, to find the vampire had moved from the chair to stand before her, holding his hand out for the phone. Aware of the pause since Sir Islands had last spoken, she repeated Alucard's words blindly and perhaps with a little too much haste.

"What solicitor?" asked Islands sharply.

She looked again at Alucard, who told her, _Mr. John Midas._ She echoed the name into the mouthpiece and added, "Here he is," before passing the phone into his gloved hand.

Alucard sat down sideways on the desk as he brought the phone to his ear; wracked with anxiety, Integra stood up to lean close and hear both sides of the conversation.

"Mr. Richard Hellsing appointed me to manage details while he is away in India." Integra hadn't quite realized yet how smooth and powerful Alucard's voice was; despite the lack of eye-to-eye contact essential for most vampires' hypnotism, she was sure his voice alone would have some effect on Sir Islands. Alucard glanced at her and grinned again before continuing, "No, I can't say when he will return. There was apparently something immediately in dispute and he feared it would be lost forever if he did not step in. It is unclear how long it will take."

Holding her breath, Integra heard over the line: "Well, when he returns tell him to call me at once, there are many things which must be discussed. – Is Walter returned from South America?"

"His business there is not yet resolved."

"Well, I hope someone is keeping an eye on Integra." There was something subtly pointed in Islands' voice. "She should hardly be answering the phones."

Indignant, Integra thought, _He better get used to it, I _am_ head of the organization now_ –

The thought was barely completed before Alucard was saying, "You are aware, Sir Islands, that the late Sir Hellsing appointed Miss Hellsing as director of the Hellsing Organization?"

"Yes, but the title is of course largely meaningless until she's older."

Integra gritted her teeth, as Alucard said coolly, "Oh, I would say it matters now in some very _important_ ways." He tilted his head back, looking at her as his voice dropped to a tone no solicitor's should. "Whatever her age, I find she has an especially alluring charisma – I am sure she will be a _wonderful_ leader."

Horrified, Integra mouthed, _STOP_, waving her hands in canceling motions before him.

There was silence over the phone, and then: "When did you begin working for Hellsing, Mr. Midas?"

"Mr. Hellsing appointed me recently, just after his brother's death," Alucard said promptly. "He knew he would be, shall we say, swallowed up in entangling issues from the will, and thought my references quite satisfactory to bring me in to overlook proceedings while he attended the smaller ones."

At the words "swallowed up," Integra had seized his upper arm, bringing her face very close to his as she thought the words _Get off the phone_ at him with all her being. Alucard looked doubly delighted, but said, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Sir Islands?"

"No, I suppose not now. Commander Ferguson is still on duty, I assume?"

"Of course."

"May I have his extension?"

Integra pointed to one of the buttons and series of numbers beside it on the phone, and Alucard read it off.

"Thank you. I suppose we will be in touch again, Mr. Midas, and please have Mr. Hellsing call me as soon as he returns."

"Certainly. Goodbye."

He set the receiver down in the cradle. Integra slumped back into the chair, then winced as her back and shoulder hit the hard wood. "Well," she said, after taking a moment to absorb the pain, "that was – mad, on the whole, but you did very well until the last part, when you started to sound like a child-molesting solicitor and I don't know but if next time you should choose a different name and say the last one was dismissed."

"He did not seem much improved with age," Alucard observed, stretching out to lie across the desk on his back, while still looking at her. "Perhaps I could solve all the problems by disposing of him as well."

"_No_. He's chair of the Round Table and very important and doesn't deserve to die, anyway – that would be completely wrong. Get off the desk."

He arched back up, though not moving any farther away as he turned to lean against the desk and watch her.

"There are new problems, anyway," Integra continued. "Clearly he's going to be calling Ferguson to ask about you, and he expects Richard to return any day. …He doesn't trust me at all, and I don't know how he's going to just _forget_ about Richard – or Walter." _If he doesn't come back_.

Alucard picked up the phone and offered it to her. "Call Ferguson. Tell him the maggot's gone – to India – and I'm here. Then you should go see the doctor about your shoulder again, shouldn't you?"

She eyed him as she touched the top of her left shoulder – yes, the ache had started to worsen. Before taking the phone, she paused a moment to order her thoughts, then accepted it and pressed the button for Ferguson's office.

His gruff voice answered after a few rings. "Ferguson speaking."

"Good morning, Commander, this is Integra. I just wanted to inform you that my uncle has left for New Delhi, to take care of a matter arising from the will with my mother's family." Her voice was much steadier this time.

"Now?" Ferguson sounded shocked.

"He said it was very urgent. I'm quite all right, Commander, don't worry about me. He also appointed a solicitor named John Midas to oversee matters in his absence. He seems very competent."

"Any word on when your uncle will return, Miss Integra?"

"He wasn't sure how long it would take, but everything's taken care of in the meanwhile."

"Well – please call me if you need anything, ma'am."

Integra swallowed, aware of Alucard leaning towards her. "I will, thank you Commander."

She informed Trevellian of her uncle's "departure" and John Midas's authority as the doctor examined and redressed her wound.

He offered no direct response, but commented, "I knitted up your shoulder the best I could last night. As far as I can tell now, there's nothing more I can do for it, but I would like to keep an eye on it over the next several weeks to make sure it's healing properly. You should just try to keep it stable for now, but later on I'll call in a specialist to help you exercise and restore the muscles."

"Oh," she said, startled by a new thought. "Does that mean – I shouldn't go back to school right away for the next term?"

Dr. Trevellian paused in what he was doing to look at her evenly, though she thought she detected a small amount of concern. "I had thought you would delay your return regardless for at least half the term."

She didn't answer. The idea of not returning to school hadn't even occurred to her; it was something she wished Walter would advise her about, but he wasn't there.

Upon returning to the house, she made herself a small lunch while Alucard loitered about. They spent the afternoon in the office, embroidering the story of Richard's disappearance and John Midas's authenticity. Both agreed that the suggestion, "Perhaps you would feel more assured if you dropped by and met Mr. Midas in person" would greatly alleviate most problems, though Integra had to clarify she meant he should _hypnotize_ rather than _eat_ the visitors, no matter how unpleasant or difficult they seemed.

He was still definitely a vampire, she reflected, though in fact she was surprised by how calm and logical he seemed. The vampires in her studies had always come across as more…frenzied. It disturbed her, in fact, how easily she could work with him – but she certainly didn't have any choice now.

After some searching, she found contact numbers for the service. The housekeeper answered on the third ring.

"Hello Mrs. Bryson, this is Integra Hellsing."

"Why – Miss Integra, what is it?"

She and Alucard had rehearsed the conversation, but it was still a careful matter to navigate. "I understand that my uncle has temporarily relieved you?"

"Temporarily? Was it only temporary? Why, he told Emmy and Mr. Browning and me our services were no longer needed and we were to leave at once, our last checks would be in the mail. Seemed quite clear we were not to set foot on the property again."

Integra pressed her lips together for a moment, but the fabrications came easier this time, and she didn't need Alucard's suggestions whispered in her head. "I'm sorry, my uncle was still very distraught and not thinking clearly. He had to leave to settle an issue with the will in India, but he called to tell me that he had made a mistake. He begs your apologies and asks you to return at once, if you have not already found other employment." She wished she could offer them a bonus of some sort, but she didn't know how to arrange that. She didn't even know what she needed to do to ensure their next usual paycheck.

Mrs. Bryson's bursting response broke her distraction. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, miss, we were right worried about you and couldn't believe Mr. Hellsing really meant such a change in a time like this. I'll come right up..."

Finally, Integra called Reverend Pershing to clarify what preparations for the funeral had already been made. The minister tried at first to dissuade her from the conversation, insisting it was not something she should have to concern herself. But Integra remained firm: her uncle was out of the country, her father had appointed her head of the organization and it was time she started taking a hand in its responsibilities, especially since she would be present at the ceremonies.

She learned that tentative plans were in place for a service and burial on Sunday, but when he asked if she had word on how many she expected to be there, a quick flailing search among the files on the desk produced no accommodating paper with those figures.

"Er," she said, hating to sound ignorant but not knowing what else to say – Alucard did not seem to be able to offer anything, only leaning his arms on the desk and watching her inquisitively. "How – how should I estimate the attendance, Reverend?"

There was a pause that told Integra that was not something she should have asked. "By – by the invitation responses, I suppose. Have you had any?"

Integra bit her lip hard, turning over more folders, though she knew she had explored them all and seen no sign of such letters. She picked up her uncle's file with its few notes concerning the funeral; leafing through it, she saw no mention of invitations. Integra forced herself to take a breath. "Ah, Reverend Pershing…I'm not entirely certain my uncle sent out the invitations before he left."

Another silence before the priest spoke again, dismay even more pronounced in his voice. "Ah – I see. Well, it isn't something you have to worry about, the funeral director makes them out and sends them off, he just needs a list of those who should be invited."

"I see." Integra had no idea who, apart from the other knights of the Round Table, should be invited. "Er – the funeral director is – Mr. Donald Wold?" The name had caught her eye from the file.

"That's correct. But I'm afraid, Miss Integra, that if the invitations haven't been set yet we can't expect to have the full service on Sunday. You usually have to give the recipients three or four days to respond, so we may be sure of how many to expect and plan accordingly."

"I'll see that the director gets a list as soon as possible." _Say it with confidence now, figure out how to do it later._

"But – Miss Integra, it isn't your place to see to that. Who is there with you? Has Walter returned?"

Every time someone asked that was like another punch to the stomach, and it was harder to keep her voice confident. "Not yet, but don't worry, Reverend, my uncle appointed a highly capable solicitor, Mr. John Midas, who is here right now. He would have made this call himself, only I insisted."

"Ah." Now she heard some relief in Pershing's voice. "Please, Miss Hellsing, let him do the work, it's why he's there. Would you like me to stop by tomorrow? I hate to think of you left alone in the house –"

"Really, Reverend, I'm not alone and I'm doing quite all right. I'll be in touch with you again soon about the service."

A dim golden glow filled the office now; the mark of a setting sun, though Integra didn't realize it until she saw that Alucard had moved to stand slightly behind her desk, gazing out the window. She leaned back to look at the yellow light on his pale, inscrutable face, and realized that this must be the first sunset he was seeing in twenty years. She turned around in her chair to watch it too. _The light doesn't seem to hurt him, and he's been awake all day_, she thought. _Though I can hardly expect him to want to _sleep _now - but he seems like such an exceptional vampire in so many other ways, too. Did he really spend twenty years without blood?_

_Yes. And you have your father and his father and dear Abraham to thank for my qualities_. His deep voice reverberated in her head – and this time, the strangeness of it unaccompanied by distractions made her start. He tilted his head to angle a smile down at her, as she looked at him suspiciously. She had never heard anything about vampires being mind-readers.

"How are you doing that?"

He only placed two fingers on the black sigil marking his glove. Integra frowned at it, then back up to his face.

"Only with you, master. Your forefathers wanted to bind me to them, as close and tight as the blood in their veins, and they did." He leaned back against the edge of her desk, grinning as the sun reflected the lens of his glasses as solid red circles.

"The sun doesn't hurt you at all?" she asked quietly.

"It does. But I would feel everything after twenty years of nothing." He stretched his arms out before him, and the sleeves of his red coat turned black and shapeless, retreating up his arms and vanishing into his body, leaving behind a white dress shirt and the red ascot tie.

Integra watched him, leaning her head back against the hard chair, and wondered at how quickly she had lost all fear of him. Surely that couldn't entirely be a good thing, despite how he had saved her life last night – he was still a vampire, she didn't know him at all, and her father had locked him up for a _reason_. So many questions he refused to answer, and she didn't know where to start looking. There was too much besides to worry about without keep coming back to doubting the one person helping her cover up what happened to Richard. She had decided to trust him, hadn't she?

A soft tapping snapped her back, and she froze in her seat, staring at the door. Alucard half-turned, and out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw him tense, his outline rippling.

"Miss Hellsing?"

She looked at Alucard, who looked quite ready to leap through the door and devour whoever was on the other side.

"It's Emmy, the maid," she hissed at him. "Don't touch her, don't let her see you. Now go, disappear."

To her immense relief, he obeyed at once, vanishing on the spot. Integra rose quickly out of her father's chair, nervously straightening and closing the folders on the desk, then walked around to open the door. "I'm in here, Emmy."

Emmy's face looked anxious, shrouded in the hallway's shadows. "Mrs. Bryson's in the kitchen, miss. Said to tell you she's making dinner and to bring you down to see her."

Integra sighed. "Right – I'll come down."

Mrs. Bryson had a long history of trying to dote on motherless Integra, undoubtedly feeling the girl was surrounded by too many men, but Integra had never appreciated the attention she found smothering. Walter had usually shooed the housekeeper away when she got too intrusive.

But Walter wasn't here now – nor her father, nor anyone to intercede between them. Integra was, as she had been reminded earlier, Mrs. Bryson's direct employer now.

Upon entering the kitchen, Mrs. Bryson swooped down upon her, though at least she had the propriety to keep from embracing her. "Oh, Miss Hellsing – have you been alone all day?"

"No," she said, stepping away from her. "The solicitor was here most of the day, and I was discussing arrangements with him."

The housekeeper clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "But you should have never –"

"If you would be so _kind_, Mrs. Bryson, to confine yourself with my dinner." Then, fearing she had been too sharp, Integra added, "Thank you for coming back. I know it has been most…irregular."

Though she returned to the stove, Mrs. Bryson still frowned at the pot she was stirring. "_Where_ has your uncle gone, Miss Hellsing? – Begging your pardon for any presumption."

"He had to leave to handle urgent business," Integra said flatly, sitting down at the kitchen table – the same place, part of her took note, she had been that morning when Alucard served her breakfast. "He has been in touch."

Mrs. Bryson kept herself from commenting further until she placed the plate – chicken, string beans, tomatoes, and toast – before Integra, with a murmured apology about how it was the best she could do under such short circumstances.

"I should go shopping tomorrow, miss," she said, wiping her hands as she leaned back against the counter.

Integra nodded, even as she was struck with the sudden question of whether she should give the housekeeper money in advance, or how on earth that was arranged. Mrs. Bryson did not ask her for anything, though, so she hoped there was a system already in place. Possibly she had a card to charge for Hellsing purchases.

She ate the rest of her dinner as the housekeeper took stock of the kitchen, muttering to herself. Only when Integra stood up with her empty plate did she hurry back to her.

"Was that all right for you, miss? Need anything else?"

"No thank you."

"Well, I'll be back early tomorrow for breakfast. That is – are you sure you wouldn't rather have me stay overnight? I could kip on a couch –"

"_No_ thank you, Mrs. Bryson. Goodnight."

She walked back upstairs, her legs uncommonly tired and her shoulder aching again. She would have liked to go straight to her bedroom, but there was something else she had to at least try to do tonight.

A tall form cloaked in red emerged from the shadows down the hall ahead of her, and she paused warily.

"How was your dinner?"

"Fine," she said, wondering. "It seems you pretty well gorged yourself last night." _Enough to make up for twenty years?_

"I am sated for now."

"Good." And later? How would she feed him when he _was_ hungry? What would he be like then? There _had_ to be records of how he was maintained, Integra thought as she continued down the hall, Alucard dropping behind to follow, never farther than her shadow.

A long way down the corridor from her father's office, at the corner of the house, was her father's study and private library where he had worked on special projects and research. Integra had always found it much more comfortable and friendly than the office, with its warm brown colors, fireplace, and deep armchairs.

She prepared herself in advance this time for some uncharacteristic disarray her uncle had wrecked, but it still made her scowl to see a number of books knocked carelessly to the floor, some lying open facedown with their pages bent. "Bastard," she muttered.

She crossed the room and knelt to start picking them up. White gloves closed around the next book for which she reached, and she glanced up at Alucard, only mildly surprised now, and let him help – until it came to reshelving the books.

"No," she said, taking one from him, "this goes over here -" Her father had a very organized arrangement for his books; they were never out of place. She couldn't see them any other way; there had to be some order and familiarity still in the world.

She couldn't help but stop, however, when she turned over _Characteristics and Psychology of the Demon Vampire. _Father had been giving her lessons from it just last summer; a red ribbon still marked where they had left off. Her hands tightened over the sides, as her throat did as well – no, _no_, she couldn't cry, the vampire was _right beside_ _her _and watching. Integra closed her eyes to take a deep breath, then fumbled to push it back in its place. _Until next time, or perhaps never_. Alucard said nothing, but passed her _A True History of Vlad Tepes Dracula and Other Infamous Vampires_.

When all the books had been replaced, she turned her attention to the study desk. It mostly seemed to be in order; her father never left papers spread out on it, but there were a couple sheets carelessly tossed on it now. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized Richard's handwriting – the notes were not complete or sensible, mostly a few scribbled names and numbers. She wondered if they were the mercenaries he had hired to help kill her. Well, it no longer mattered. She crumpled up the papers and dropped them in the rubbish bin.

Turning away from the familiar books and desk, she crouched down low to examine the row of thick spiral binders, records of her father's work. She had never looked in them before, but they were neatly labeled on the spines, with dates reaching back to the early decades of the 1900's.

_Twenty years_. Her fingers found a binder marked for a five-year span including the year exactly two decades ago, and pulled it from the shelf into her lap. Unlike the other binders, the pages inside were only two-thirds full. Tabs marked different sections, some with the name of a city or vampire. She flipped through the unfamiliar names, scanning the descriptions and looking for a note something along the lines of "Have decided to lock the target up in the house dungeons," but every entry ended the same way: _Target silenced._ But what about the missing pages?

Alucard had sat down with her, his long legs folded with one knee up, leaning close as he looked over her shoulder, but she refused to be bothered by him. Closing the binder, she reached for the next, which was stock-full of pages, but she didn't expect to find anything. Records of a powerful vampire kept in the basement of the Hellsing Organization wouldn't be kept in such plain sight; after all, she had never heard a word about it as she grew up. It wasn't until her father's deathbed that he even alluded to it. Where would confidential records be kept, then? Walter would probably know, but she didn't. She didn't know where to start, and the thought of poking through her father's bedroom or private rooms, which he had kept locked, turned her stomach.

She stopped to look up at Alucard's face, close to hers now, searching those red eyes and wishing she could find something that would reassure her she could trust him – a vampire – in the coming days. If he wanted her blood, wouldn't he have attacked her already? What did he want, then? Would he really obey her unconditionally?

She spoke slowly and distinctly: "Why did my father lock you up?"

Alucard folded his long, gloved fingers over his knee, setting his chin over them to look down at her. "Your father decided the organization was better served without my assistance."

Integra sighed and closed her eyes, leaning against the back of the desk as she remembered how little choice she had. Then, straightening her skirt, she got to her feet. "I'm going to bed."

He did not follow her from the room.

Methodically, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, swallowed two more of the pills, and changed clumsily into her pajamas. Twenty-four hours since – but it was best not to relive it.

Snapping off the light, Integra pulled the blanket tight around her, and found she was nowhere close to sleep. Free from distraction, her shoulder throbbed worse than it had felt all day, eliminating the possibility of sleep until the painkillers kicked in. Integra gritted her teeth and turned, searching for an angle that offered the most relief and trying to keep her mind blank. She had to sleep; she would need it for tomorrow. She mustn't think of the facts presented that day – and yesterday – and the last week. The nightmare which had grown more and more unreal ever since she came home to find out how ill Father was. No, no, don't think of any of it, not him or Walter or Richard or the vampire –

Something heavy landed with a _thump_ at the foot of her bed, and Integra flew up, eyes wide and heart pounding.

A dog-shaped black form blinked at her with six red slitted eyes. Something that could have been a tail thumped a few times on the bedspread, seemingly innocent.

For several moments, Integra stared at it. It did nothing but look back at her, then lower its head to the bed, continuing to stare. Finally, with a slow exhalation, she fell back onto her pillow.

Her shoulder still hurt, and she was very awake, aware of the vampire lying at her feet. Yet she didn't send him out – why? Was it really better than being alone? She turned onto her side again, off her shoulder, biting her lip at the pain.

The weight at her feet shifted, and she stiffened. He was moving – the bed depressing behind her legs and then her back, _right behind her_ and oh God how stupid was she to allow a _vampire_ onto her bed –

Something wet and cold snuffled her shoulder, over and around the bandages. His nose, she realized. Then, quite suddenly, he dropped down with a softer _thump_, his cool body pressing against her back.

Integra exhaled a long, shaky breath, and relaxed. It was an absurd thought, but – at least this way, she knew exactly where he was. And she couldn't feel her shoulder as much, against him.


End file.
